The Agent in the X-rays
by late2bbparty
Summary: The Jeffersonian family reacts to reading Booth's x-rays. Set after The Brother in the Basement. I don't have any claim to Bones
1. The Revelation

The Jeffersonian interns had a semi-monthly meeting affectionately called the "Show and Tell" meeting where they would pick a random set of x-rays from a recent case pop them up the big screen in the conference room and analyze them. The idea behind the meeting was to allow everyone to learn from experience even if it wasn't their week in the rotation. There was also a slight game involved to see how quickly the intern who had worked the case could identify it as theirs, so the actual set of files were picked by one of the admins and stripped of any case numbers and names. . To an outsider, it was another boring staff meeting, but to the interns it was a chance to hang out while gaining more experience and they all enjoyed it.

So, Jessica, Oliver, Wendall, Colin, Daisy, Rudolfo headed to the conference room and found Clark already there. He didn't always attend given his work, but found that it was useful for keeping his skills up to date so that on the occasions when he was called to assist in a criminal investigation he was ready.

"Ok, Clark, as first here, you get to do the coin toss." said Wendall.

Clark flipped the coin - "Tails. So, starting at the feet and working up." He put the set first set of pictures up on the monitor.

The feet appeared and collectively the group winced. Daisy commented, "Ok, might be quicker if we call out the bones that aren't fractured here. I think the right lateral cuneiform is intact as well as the left fourth and fifth metatarsals."

"Remodeling suggests that these injuries are more than twenty years old." Wendall added, "And while it's not definitive the size would suggest a male."

"What happened to this poor guy?" Jessica wondered out loud.

Rudolfo answered "Torture - beating the soles of the feet with pipes or hoses."

"Given the damage, it's most likely he walked with a limp" added Oliver.

Clark observed "There are stress fractures on the calceani that would indicate parachuting, so probably former military." Both Clark and Wendall were thinking the x-rays were likely of Jared Booth. Arastoo had told them a little of the case during a recent outing. Sort of a last hurrah before he headed off to a new job.

There was more discussion of the various fractures, and there were a lot of them. Fisher found himself feeling more and more depressed, which granted didn't take much. They were all grateful when it was time to move on.

The lower legs appeared. Wendall spoke first, "A couple more stress fractures, confirming the parachuting theory. Also remodeled blunt force trauma to the right fibula and tibia. Those injuries likely occurred at the same time as the foot trauma." There wasn't much else to see so they quickly moved on .

Next set of slides appeared, this one of the spine. "Remodeled greenstick fracture of the L4. Again, likely the result of the torture." noted Jessica.

Then came the rib cage. Fisher let out a low whistle, "Lot to talk about here. Greenstick fractures of ribs 5-8, extensively remodeled, likely the result of childhood abuse. There's also indications of sharp force trauma, maybe a gunshot wound? to the sternum, approximately 10 years ago, another sharp force trauma to right rib 4 this one occurring approximately 18 months ago, likely another gunshot. Other ribs have been broken in various incidents, some with the torture, some more recent." Oliver added, "There's also rib pitting, in a pattern which suggests he was shielding at the time of the injury. "

"Geez, this guy really went through the wringer" Jessica observed.

The right hand appeared next. "Fracture to the fourth and fifth metatarsal, most likely the result of a fist fight, approximately 7 years ago. " Wendall stated. He was now getting a funny feeling. That was the same injury Booth had sustained in a hockey game around that time. He was also thinking that from what he understood, Jared had been out of the military for a while, so how did he get a gunshot wound 18 months ago? Very odd coincidence for both brothers to be shot around the same time. He remembered what Arastoo had told him on how Dr. B had determined it was Jared and not Booth. "Hey Clark, can you pull up the left scapula?"

The others started to protest, that wasn't how it was done, but Clark was having the same funny feeling Wendall was. He put up the scapula. There was a chunk missing. Clark looked at Wendall and nodded, and turned the monitor off. Neither of them had any desire to see any more of Booth's x-rays.

Oliver was annoyed. "We haven't determined cause of death yet."

Clark said quietly. "I don't think we will."

Daisy was puzzled, and then it dawned on her. "This person isn't dead." She exclaimed, and then it hit her what she had been looking at. While they may have lacked specifics, everyone knew about Agent Booths little brother and the circumstances surrounding his identification. Cam walking by, heard her and poked her head in, having the interns discussing live people was a first.

Jessica frowned. "Oh crap. I'm getting a really bad vibe about this. " Rudolfo had also just figured it out and was looking a little sick to his stomach.

"What's going on? " Cam asked.

"Just doing our show and tell meeting, only Clark here has decided not to show anymore." Oliver whined.

"I don't think it's appropriate" said Clark, "These x-rays should have been deleted."

Cam was also puzzled, thinking through the reasons files should be deleted and recent cases, then she figured it out, "Oh God." Taking a deep breath she sought to do damage control. "Okay everyone, I will now take the time to remind you that you have all signed a confidentially agreement as part of your condition of employment here. So, if any of you discuss this outside of these walls, you will be fired. Also, for your own safety, I would suggest that you refrain from mentioning this to the party in question. I will find out how this slipped through the cracks and make sure it doesn't happen again, as well as let the person know what happened." And hope our friendship stops him from shooting me she mentally added as she left the room.

Oliver was still confused. Based on the expressions, they all knew this guy, but he couldn't figure it out. Of course, he wasn't privy to much office gossip because no one liked him. Not that he particularly cared most times, but now he was annoyed that others seemed to appear smarter than he was. "I don't know any 45 year old six foot males who limp" he muttered under his breath. Daisy retorted quickly, "he doesn't limp" and then clapped her hand over her mouth.

The interns gathered up their stuff and headed out quietly, usually they headed for a drink at the Founding Fathers, but no one was in the mood today. Daisy, Clark, and Wendall, having known Booth the longest, were having a hard time processing the knowledge of what he had suffered. Through the years they had picked up that his childhood wasn't the greatest, but they had never suspected abuse. From her relationship with Lance, Daisy knew that the trauma was always there. As a mother she could not imagine deliberately harming her child. While his army career was common knowledge Booth had never mentioned physical torture. They knew that he was haunted by some of the lives he had taken as a soldier, now they realized that there were other demons.

Fisher was also shocked by the injuries but couldn't help but feel a little jealous of all the times that Booth had come close to death. However he knew that if he wanted to come close to death the fastest way would be to ask Booth questions, so he decided that he would just have to remain curious. Rudolfo's respect for the man had deepened, his uncle in Cuba had similar experiences to the agent - torture and imprisonment and had coped by crawling in a bottle of rum. Jessica was just trying to figure out what to say the next time she saw Aubrey. It was horrible to think of what happened and she was pretty sure that Aubrey had no clue about his mentor and she really did not want to accidentally enlighten him.

Oliver had finally figured out whose x-rays they were and was trying to figure out how the agent walked without a limp. He hated it when he was wrong, particularly when he couldn't figure out where his mistake was.

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Cam rang the doorbell to the B&B household with trepidation. She had talked on the phone with Booth earlier to make sure she wouldn't be interrupting, but figured she owed it to her friend to have this discussion face to face. He was going to be furious. Even though they had dated and been friends for over 20 years, he rarely volunteered information about his past unless it was forced from him. Most of what she knew about his childhood had come from Jared. As for the torture, she had only found out about that after their first night together when she'd seen him without socks and had demanded to know what happened to him. He had given her the barest of details. Others had been revealed during and after occasional nightmares. "Hey Cam" Booth greeted her. They exchanged a loose hug, Cam was very aware that he was still recovering and she wanted to make sure that she didn't add to his pain, or at least his physical pain.

"Need a beer?" he offered.

"Not yet. Maybe after we talk. Is Christine around?"

"No, Angela and Hodgins are bringing her home soon. She and Michael had an art class this afternoon and then we're all having dinner. You're welcome to join us." Booth replied as he took a seat on the couch and gestured for her to have a seat. "So, what's up? You said it was important."

Just then Brennan walked in the living room, Hank on her hip. She placed him in his playpen and then greeted Cam. "Is there something wrong at the lab?" she asked taking note of Cam's strained expression.

"You might say that. " She relayed the afternoon's events. " I am so sorry Seeley. As director of the lab, I take full responsibility. I am having a meeting with the admins tomorrow to make sure that it doesn't happen again, and you are well within your rights to file a complaint."

Booth rubbed his hands over his face and sighed, he knew what the interns had learned, Bones had taught him that lesson long ago. "Don't call me Seeley, Camille. And, while I can't say that I'm happy, there's no point in stirring up more crap with a complaint. It won't change anything and it'll just give you more paperwork. You've had a lot to deal with lately too. I take it you threatened them appropriately?"

She nodded and gave him a small smile. "I let them know that you would shoot first and ask questions later."

Booth laughed in spite of himself. Further discussion was halted as Christine burst through the door followed quickly by Michael, both kids greeted the adults enthusiastically as they were cautioned not to do their normal jumping on Booth. Cam took the opportunity to make her excuses and leave. Angela took in the grim expressions on her friends faces and suggested to the kids to go play in Christine's room for a bit. As they made their way down the hallway, she turned to Booth and said, "Ok, spill it".

"It's nothing Angela." He held up a bottle of wine in an unasked question.

"Yes please, and don't give me that. You and Cam both look like somebody took your last cup of pudding. And might I remind you that you have already exhausted your worry markers for the year."

"Cam just informed Booth that the interns accidentally were reading his x-rays during their Show and Tell today." Brennan said matter of factly, ignoring Booth's glare.

Hodgins snorted. "To them, that's better than the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue" catching Booth's expression he muttered "Sorry."

"Ok, I can see where you would be uncomfortable with that, but it's not like we don't know you've had some broken body parts in your FBI career" Angela started and then gasped. "Oh my god. Did they find something in your x-rays like Bren did with Wendalls? You have cancer? Oh my god."

Booth held up his hand. "Relax Angela. It's not cancer. They didn't find anything new in my x-rays." He sighed.

"Then what?" Angela asked. "You're making us a little nervous here Booth." Hodgins added.

Booth debated. On the one hand, he hated talking about his past, people inevitably asked questions that stirred up too many memories for him, on the other, Angela and Hodgins were good friends and he'd worried them enough lately. Given that it was now out there, he figured there was no point in not telling them. He moved to take a seat and motioned them to do the same. Bones sat next to him and when he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees she gently started to rub his back.

He took a deep breath trying to figure out the best place to start. "Well, I think you guys already know that my dad had a tendency to use me as a punching bag. The interns now know too. But what they also found was what happened when I was in Iraq " he paused " as a POW ".

Both gasped. Hodgins said shakily, "Oh man. The Iraqis weren't known for adhering to the Geneva convention."

Booth nodded. Angela just stared at him, trying to figure out what to say next. I'm sorry didn't seem enough, and she wanted to know more about what had happened to him but it didn't seem right to ask him questions. He saw her look and decided he owed them a little more, "Without going in to details, they did a lot of damage to my feet. I spent my 22nd birthday in the VA hospital learning to walk again. And the problems I have with my back are a result of that time too.

Hodgins was shaking his head. Angela was just pale. Booth tried to lighten the mood. "Hey guys, it was a long time ago okay? It happened, and I survived and I'm fine. No lasting damage."

Angela knew better. She could tell when her friend was lying. There was no way there wasn't lasting damage, but she appreciated his attempt to spare her. She was trying to corral all the thoughts in her brain. She was a little hurt that Booth had never bothered to disclose this in the 12 years she'd known him, but she also realized that it wasn't a topic you bring up in casual conversation. Mostly she was pissed that she had yet another reference for the rotten things that people could do to each other. There would definitely be an intense painting therapy session after Michael Vincent went to bed tonight.

For his part, Hodgins was still trying to process. He had done enough research on US involvement in the Middle East and had read about POW treatment. Mostly he had skimmed it because most of the info came from first hand accounts and they were distressing to say the least. He and Booth often had been at odds on politics and US policy, but Hodgins had a deep respect for Booth's service, even if he didn't agree with the army's agenda. He couldn't imagine what it must have been like to be a scared twenty one year old in pain and not knowing if rescue or death would be the end of your ordeal.

Brennan for the first time was wishing irrationally that she hadn't trained her interns so well.

The four adults were spared further attempts at conversation when Christine and Michael Vincent came running back into the room declaring they were starving. Both families sat down for dinner and while the adults were a little subdued the kids enthusiasm more than made up for it. After a while, the grownups put the earlier conversation in the back of their minds and enjoyed the evening. When it came time to say good night, the only indication that anything out of the ordinary had happened were firmer handshakes and longer hugs.

But for most of the Jeffersonian family sleep came a little harder that night.


	2. The Artist

Michael Vincent was mostly asleep by the time they arrived home from the B&B house. It took both of them to get the groggy boy changed into his pajamas and tucked in. Their usual nighttime routine followed, although a little quieter than normal, both Hodgins and Angela were feeling a little raw. Mail was read and sorted, Michael's lunch packed, coffee maker prepped. They were getting ready for bed when Hodgins asked, "What the hell are you doing?"

Angela stared at him, "Getting ready for bed, what's it look like?"

"Angie, we both know you aren't sleeping anytime soon. " He kissed her. "Go. Go to your studio and balance the ugliness."

She kissed him back and whispered, "Thanks for understanding." She headed to her happy place.

Normally she painted to music. She had several playlists to match her various moods, but tonight, the emotions were all over the place, so she opted for the silence as she pulled out a canvas.

There was hurt. She considered Booth a friend, and it hurt that he'd never considered sharing this part of himself. She knew if it hadn't been for the clerical error, he would have never talked about his experience. Even now that they knew what happened, it barely counted as talking. Didn't he trust them? Did he think they would think less of him if they knew. Did he think they were that shallow? The canvas background turned red with her thoughts.

Anger followed. Anger at Congressman Hadley, Stark, Durant for daring to question Booth's patriotism and loyalty, and allowing him to be taken prisoner again. Again. Dammit. The fury that she felt eighteen months ago resurfaced and grew. There was anger at the universe as well, for a world where twenty one year olds were sent to war, where men thought that torture was acceptable. Black lines appeared on the painting.

Then came the rationalization. Come on Angela, she thought to herself. Did you ever tell him what you did on your 22nd birthday? No. Then she was glad she hadn't because really taking body shots off a Cabo lifeguard was very shallow compared to his 'celebration'. And it was Booth. Booth, who had been taught from a young age that boys don't cry and showing weakness only led to more pain. So by necessity he had become the master of fake it till you make it. She realized the lack of revelation had nothing to do with them and everything to do with his coping mechanism, so who was she to judge? On the canvas a theme started to appear.

Then she started second guessing herself. All the comments and actions over the years that with the benefit of hindsight took on new meaning. When he was kidnapped and tortured by the West Virginia mobster, he had shrugged it off with "I've had worse". She had thought it was some macho bull at the time and made a snide remark to the effect, but now realized he meant it. And that was heart breaking. The hot summer day when they were picnicking with the kids and everyone had kicked off their shoes to feel the cool grass between their toes. Everyone except him, she had teased him about being a tender foot. All the times they'd joked about his bad back. How had that made him feel? She recalled his reactions - sad smiles, but no hints of anger towards her and was relieved. The details began to emerge on the canvas.

Finally towards dawn, calm prevailed. Because despite every lousy thing that had happened to him he had made it to happiness. X-rays to Bren were more revealing than the most detailed biography. Her friend knew more about Booth than he was ever capable of telling, and adored him. Their devotion to each other was obvious to all who met them. He also had three beautiful, healthy children who loved him as much as he loved them, and a group of friends who more than made up for his lack of family. Finishing touches filled in.

The alarm went off, Hodgins rolled over to find his wife's side of the bed empty. Heading down to the studio he found her asleep on the couch, a completed painting on the easel. He smiled, it wasn't her usual style, but it was absolutely perfect. He covered her with a blanket then headed down to call Cam and let her know that Angela would be taking a mental health day.

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The quiet of the house was interrupted by the doorbell. Booth peered through the peephole and was surprised to see Angela there, holding a package, looking a little worse for the wear. He had no doubt that the conversation of the previous evening was responsible and sighed, hating that he had inadvertently caused more worry. Taking a deep breath he opened the door, "Hey Ange, come on in. Are you ok? "

She rolled her eyes at the concern in his voice. After the events of the last couple of weeks he was worried about her for losing sleep one night. "Yea, I'm fine Studly" she stepped into the entryway but made no move to go any further. He shut the door behind her, feeling a little awkward, normally Angela would be in the kitchen by now. The last thing he wanted was for friends to treat him differently but realized it was probably inevitable for a while.

She thrust the package in his hands. "Here. I don't want you to look at it while I'm here because I don't want to see your reaction, in case you hate it. I do want you to know that it was love and respect that went into it so you can hate the art but not the artist okay? You can do whatever you want with it, I won't be offended if you throw it away, or use it as a target practice or whatever, but it's your fault I painted it, so you have to take it." She kissed his cheek and left before he could reply.

He opened the package to reveal a small painting, about 9 inches by 12. On the back Angela's handwriting titled the work "Vindex Cognationis", which if his altar boy Latin was remembered correctly meant Protector of the Family. He turned it over. It looked like the cover of a graphic novel. The superhero was holding a shield facing an unseen enemy while a group of figures stood behind him. Most of the figures were faceless, but some had vaguely familiar features. Brown eyes peered out from behind the hero's mask, and while he obviously battered-slashes in the uniform revealed bruises, open wounds and scars- his posture was defiant. The people in the background showed no fear, conveying absolute confidence in their safety behind him. A lump formed in Booth's throat when his eyes finally drifted down to the hero's feet, somewhere in battle his boot had been damaged revealing garishly striped socks.

It took him a few minutes to compose himself. Then he found a hammer and nail and headed down to the man cave where he hung it in clear view from his recliner. Task accomplished he dialed a number, and when the voice on the other end answered, he said hoarsely, "Thank you Ang. I love it. It's already hanging in the man cave. I was going to take it to the office but,"

Angela finished for him, "then you'd have to explain it. I get it. Love you Booth. "

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Reviews appreciated. Thanks for all the follows.


	3. The Teammate and the Mother

As they left the conference room, Daisy and Wendell hung back from the others. They were both visibly shaken. Daisy asked him quietly, "Are you okay?"

"Yea" he said automatically, then shook his head, "No. I don't know. This is all so messed up."

"Yes, it is. " Daisy chewed her bottom lip and then tentatively asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Wendell shook his head again, "Can't. Need to meet Andie. We're supposed to meet up like usual. " He groaned, "Crap. I can't tell her any of this, you heard what Cam said, and she's gonna know that something's wrong. Maybe I should text her and cancel." He pulled out his phone.  
Daisy put her hand over his phone. "Wendell, we cut the meeting short. There's still 45 minutes before you usually get to the Founding Fathers or I have to go pick up Lance."

Wendell finally glanced at her and realized she was pale and looked as distraught as he felt. Seeing the sense in her suggestion, Wendall nodded and said, "let's head up to the lounge area. Everyone else has gone, we can chat there. Why don't you grab a couple of cokes out of the vending machine? I'm going to make a quick detour and see you there."

She looked puzzled but did as she asked. Understanding dawned when he arrived carrying a bottle of rum and some paper cups. At her raised eyebrows he shrugged, "Dr. Jacobs, Caribbean studies. I left a post-it explaining it's an emergency. I know I need it." He poured some rum in the cups and they added the coke. They sipped and sat in silence for a minute. Simultaneously they broke and asked "You didn't know?"

Daisy looked shocked, "Why would I have known?"

Wendell shrugged, "Sweets and his book. Figured Booth would have told him and he would have told you or it was in his notes. Why would you think I'd know?"

"You play hockey together, and I know you're friends."

Wendell exhaled and shook his head. "He told me some of his war experiences. But they were mostly about the friends he's lost. I knew he'd been hurt some, you can't help but see some of the scars in the locker room you know? And he's told a couple of hospital stories, but he glosses over how he ended up there. I never imagined this." He rubbed his hands over his face, "God, given all the damage to his feet, I don't know how he manages to skate."

"I would think the cold would make them ache."

He nodded "Jeez, that explains it." Daisy looked at him questioningly, "He wears like 3 pairs of socks and it takes him a while to lace up because you can't have any wrinkles or anything or you'll get blisters, so some of the guys give him a hard time. " He let out a snort, "one guy tried to nickname him Cinderella for it. You can imagine how well that went over."

Daisy smiled in spite of her mood, she could just picture Booth's expression and wondered if the teammate in question realized how lucky he was that looks couldn't kill. Then she grew thoughtful again, "Why does he do it then?"

"It's Booth." Wendell said as if it were obvious. "He doesn't give up on things he loves easily." He thought about it some more, "His dad taught him. There was a pond near his house when he was a kid that would freeze over." The intern shook his head again, "That's another thing, I knew his dad was a drunk, but did we really read that right? He was beaten as a kid?"

Daisy nodded sadly. "We weren't mistaken. " She reflected for a bit. "It makes more sense now, why Lance wouldn't give up on Booth. Even when he could be a bit, well, brusque. " She turned to Wendell. "I used to wonder sometimes why they were friends. On the surface they didn't have a lot in common. I guess being raised in hell forms a bond even if one of them never talked about it. "

They sipped some more. Wendell shook his head again, opened his mouth as if to speak and then shut it.

"What?" Daisy asked.

"I feel like such an ass." At Daisy's puzzled expression he continued, "it's just that throughout my cancer treatment, Booth was the guy I'd go to when I needed my butt kicked. If I was starting to feel sorry for myself, he'd be the one to tell me to get my shit together. He wouldn't be that blunt about it, but he'd make it clear that while he had sympathy for what was happening to me I wasn't allowed to wallow. Seeing what he's been through, I'm not sure why he didn't just scream at me to stop being such a wimp. "

Daisy shook her head. "He doesn't think you're a wimp."

"And you know this how?"

"Think about it. How many people have you ever known Booth to suck up to? "

Wendell laughed, "That would be about zero."

"Precisely. If he doesn't make nice to the director of the FBI, why would he bother trying with a lowly intern on his wife's staff?"

"Lowly intern? Gee, that makes me feel better."

"You know what I mean. " She said with an annoyed tone. Then she softened, "I'm guessing that somewhere along the line he had his own Booth." At Wendell's raised eyebrows she added, "All those broken bones, plus I'm sure there was some psychological damage as well, he would have been laid up for a while. Don't you think at some point he might have wallowed? And had somebody who kicked his ass?"

Wendell thought about and then nodded. They both fell silent again, still thinking, and nursing their drinks.

Finally Wendell asked, "So, what are you going to do, you know, the next time you see him? Knowing that he knows that we know."

She shrugged. "I don't know. Guess I'll take my cues from him. I doubt he'll mention it. But I feel like I should do something you know? How about you"

"Yea. You're probably right. He's not going to bring it up, and he'll be irritated if we do. But yea, it feels wrong to just ignore it. "

Wendell's phone ping indicating an incoming text. "That's Andie. She's on her way to Founding Father's. I should go. "

Daisy looked at her watch, "I gotta go too, and pick up Lance from daycare. Are you okay?"

"Yea, thanks. How about you?"

"Ok. I think I'll be even better after I pick up Lance, hold him, you know?"

"I get it. Thanks Daisy."

They exchanged a brief hug and went their separate ways.

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Andie was surprised to walk into Founding Fathers and not see the gang. She was just about to call Wendell when he walked in. They exchanged a quick kiss and then she asked, "Where is everybody?" She looked at him with concern, "Is everything okay?"

He nodded. "We had a shortened Show and Tell today. There was an administrative problem."

"And nobody decided to celebrate a short workday?" She looked at him skeptically.

He hesitated, then replied, "Something else happened, which I can't discuss, so no one was in the mood to celebrate. But everything is okay, really."

Andie studied his face and then shrugged, "I know better than to press, but if there is anything I can do to help, let me know."

"There was some unexpected twists in a case. Just need a bit of time to process, but I'll be fine. The usual?" When she nodded, he went to the bar and returned with a glass of wine for her and a coke for himself. Since that wasn't his usual, she knew something was definitely not right, but, she didn't want to make him uncomfortable. So, as a distraction she started regaling tales of her day.

The attempt at normalcy was welcome and soon he found himself relaxing. But he sensed that she was a little off as well, and it didn't seem like his mood was to blame. Finally he asked, "Are you okay? Seems like something is on your mind too."

"Oh, well, I had a favor to ask you, but given your day it doesn't seem like the right time."

"Might as well go for it."

She paused for a minute. "The oncology center is looking to start up a support group. They'll have a trained facilitator, but, they are looking for a volunteer survivor to sit in as well. Someone who's been through everything and can share their experience. I know it's not exactly something you like to talk about, but I was wondering if you could help out? You don't have to give me an answer right away, so maybe think about it?"

His first instinct was to say no. Find someone else. The chemo experience was not something he wanted to relive, and talking about cancer to a roomful of strangers was definitely not on his bucket list. He opened his mouth to tell her this and then thought about the earlier discussion with Daisy. Maybe it was an opportunity to be someone else's Booth. He took a bite of his dinner to buy time and then made the decision.

"Yea, I'll do it."

"You will?" She was surprised. "Seriously? I think you'd be good at it, but I really wasn't expecting you to say yes."

He snorted, "That makes two of us that are shocked."

"Well, then, not that I'm trying to change your mind, but can I ask why you just said yes?"

He gave her a small smile, "I got reminded today how lucky I was to have good friends backing me up. Maybe it's corny, but I think I need to pay it forward."

She squeezed his hand. "Corny or not, I'm glad."

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Daisy picked up Seeley Lance from day care got them both fed and then spent an enjoyable evening cuddling her son. He really was a good baby and it was almost uncanny how he could turn on the charm when she was having a bad day. After putting him down, she wandered about the apartment aimlessly. It was times like this that she really missed Lance. She was still feeling a little unsettled. Lance would have known what to say, or she mused, would he? She had been replaying conversations in her mind and had come to the conclusion that Lance had probably pieced together Agent Booth's childhood. But she doubted he had known about the torture, or if he had, it had only been as a note in his FBI records he wouldn't have known the extent of the physical damage.

Pacing about an item on the bookshelf caught her eye. It was a framed photograph that had been turned picture side down and placed in the small space between the top of the books and the bottom of the shelf above. She knew exactly what the photo was and when she had hidden it. It had been tucked away in a fit of frustration shortly after Booth's gambling relapse had become common knowledge. She'd been angry that Booth had succumbed when at the time it had seemed like, finally, things were getting better for everyone. Angry at herself for being angry at him knowing that it wasn't rational - addiction was a disease and you shouldn't get pissed at someone for getting sick. Mostly she'd been angry that Lance wasn't there to help any of them through it.

She pulled the photo out and studied it again. It had been a favorite of Lance's. A candid snapped by Angela at Booth and Dr. Brennan's wedding. Christine was sitting on Lance's lap, next to her sat Parker and on the other side of the boy, Booth. There were four slices of wedding cake on the table and Christine had obviously not been patiently waiting to be fed-her hands were sticky with the treat. She had just reached out and patted her big brother on the cheek leaving a distinct streak of chocolate crumbs and white icing. Parker looked somewhat stunned, while Booth, Lance and Christine found it hilarious. As she looked at their laughing faces she couldn't help but smile herself. In place of the anger now was awe that two men whose early years had been marked with such violence could take such child like joy in that moment. She allowed her fingers to trace over Lance's smile and although she had tears in her eyes, there was a sense of gratitude that she had known him and had his son. She studied the picture for another moment and then with a soft sigh put it back in it's rightful place of honor on the mantel.

She headed down the hallway to her bedroom. En route, she stopped in her son's room and watched him sleeping peacefully in his crib. In a perfect world Lance would have been there to help raise his child. But she knew with absolute conviction that there was no better man to be his godfather.


	4. The Bug and Slime Guy

After Angie headed down to her studio, Jack lay in the dark thinking about the evening. He knew Angie was annoyed that Booth had never talked about this before but, to him, it made sense. Guys in general and guys like Booth in particular didn't have big conversations. But just like in their work, all the information you needed could be found by reading the particulates. And that made sense he snorted to himself, because his friendship with Booth had literally started with particulates-that bag of "evidence" the agent required him to analyze the night of the Jeffersonian gala. He had never looked at rice flour, foot powder or the G-man the same way.

They should not be friends. An authority hating, conspiracy loving scientist born with a silver spoon in his mouth and a sniper turned FBI agent from close to the wrong side of the tracks should not get along. Especially when the agent in questions service record required a lot of favors called in to get a copy of it and then was so heavily redacted as to be almost useless. And at times they disagreed on topics so vehemently Hodgins did get a little nervous that Booth was almost always armed. But somewhere along the line the friendship became solid enough to withstand their differences.

Hodgins smiled to himself. Most of the solidifying had been done in bars and over women troubles. Jack had initiated the ritual when Booth and Tessa had called it quits. The agent returned the favor when Angela was driving Hodgins crazy. And while it was never admitted, Hodgins noticed an uptick in bar trips whenever Brennan was dating someone. When Hodgins was pissed at the world after Zach was committed, it was Booth who had just listened to his rants. At some point Hodgins had commented bitterly, "you can stop pretending to care, you didn't even like the guy." G-man had just replied quietly that it didn't matter whether you liked a guy in your unit or not, when you lost them it still hurt.

He thought about Booth's comment about his dad had used him as a punching bag. That was the most direct the agent had ever been about his father, but it was a revelation that had been a long time coming. Particulates again, thought Hodgins. He recalled a time right before Michael Vincent was born, Angela, in a fit of hormones had ordered Booth to take Hodgins out so that she and Dr. B. could watch chick flicks and eat ice cream. He'd confessed to Booth that he was nervous that he wouldn't be as good a father to his child as his dad was to him. When he'd asked the agent if that was normal, Booth had shook his head and said that he might be the wrong person to ask - he'd used his dad as a yardstick on what NOT to do. Hodgins had wanted to kick himself after that comment. He'd known that Booth's grandfather had raised him, "after his father had left" that alone should have clued him in that Booth's dad wasn't a candidate for father of the year. After Edwin Booth's death, a few more details had emerged and a few more hints came with the return of Booth's mom. A few more with the death of Hank. But those had all come from Angie via Brennan. Hodgins doubted Booth would ever say more on the subject and quite frankly, he didn't want to know. Maybe that was cowardly of him, but thinking of his son sleeping in the next room he had no desire to contemplate THAT reality any further.

As he pondered the evenings events further he realized that he wasn't as shocked to learn of Booth's captivity as he should have been. His first clue was when they had been locked in the lab over Christmas. The first morning he had caught sight of the agent walking stiffly out of Goodman's office. He hadn't called out in greeting because he had feared for his life at the time, assuming that sleeping on the floor had caused the aches and pains. He'd been surprised when an hour later at breakfast the agent had been moving with his usual gait. The sequence had repeated the next morning. Hodgins had concluded this was normal for the agent and no doubt the consequences of one of the many blacked out details in his service record, but he had just assumed an IED or some other combat injury, not being taken prisoner.

He recalled a conversation after the Gravedigger had buried him and Dr. B. alive. He and Booth had been having a beer at Founding Fathers and the agent had asked if he was sleeping ok, and when the answer was negative had offered sympathy and advice. He was in one of his angry at the world moods and had snapped back that the Booth had no idea what it was like to be in pain, buried alive and unsure if you would ever see the light of day again. Booth had just listened with an expression that Jack recognized was odd but didn't care at the time. When he finally took a breath, Booth had said quietly that Hodgins was right, he'd never been buried alive and then changed the topic. The advice had worked, but when Hodgins had offered his thanks a few days later Booth had made it clear he didn't want to discuss it further.

When the Gravedigger had grabbed Booth, Hodgins' sleeping problems had resurfaced. After a few sick days, Booth had returned to work moving a little stiffly but not looking too worse for the experience. Hodgins had asked if he was sleeping okay. Booth had replied something to the effect as good as usual. When he'd expressed his amazement to Cam that the agent could be so unaffected by the experience, Cam had replied, "you assume that he sleeps normally" and then left the room.

So, the signs had been there, he just hadn't known what they meant. Now the question was, what to do with them now?

He knew that Booth wouldn't appreciate a fuss or even further discussion, but he just couldn't let this go. He thought for a few more minutes and then got out of bed and grabbed the laptop. It turned out getting rid of the Cantilever group money was harder than they had anticipated - most charities weren't equipped to have their budgets increased dramatically. So to deter any of Pelant's fans from searching for the treasure Angie had set up a couple of hundred smaller accounts that were well hidden and practically untraceable. He did a little research, found the charity that he was looking for and what their needs were. With a few clicks of the mouse, the immediate wants were taken care of. With a few more clicks, an endowment was set up to ensure that the group could spend their resources helping wounded vets instead of fund raising.

All of it was done anonymously. Booth would be annoyed otherwise. And annoying Booth, thought Jack with a grin, was still not something any sane person wanted to do. Feeling better, he closed the laptop and turned out the lights.

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Reviews appreciated!


	5. The Anthropologist and the Gambler

After their dinner guests left and Christine was tucked into bed, Brennan was giving Hank his last bottle of the night and hoping that her husband was getting some rest. It had only been 12 days since he'd been shot and between the blood loss and the subsequent infection from his emergency cauterization he still tired easily, much to his irritation. Emotionally, dealing with Jared's death was difficult as well. Not only had he witnessed his killing, their mother was not taking it well. Jared had rebuffed her attempts at reconciliation and now it was too late, and Padme was bitter as well. Unfortunately neither woman could see past their own pain and guilt to notice how much Booth was suffering.

She walked into the bedroom, disappointed to find it empty. She went back to the living room, frowning to find that empty as well. Since his release from prison when upset he gravitated towards the outdoors. She looked outside and saw Booth sitting on the glider in the back yard. She sighed. The late October evening was too cold for him to be out there, but at least he'd turned on the gas fire pit the kids have given him last father's day. She put the kettle on figuring she'd give him a little more time before invading his space. Booth was trying to come to corral his thoughts. Unbidden, the familiar words popped into his head.

 _God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,_  
 _Courage to change the things I can,_  
 _And wisdom to know the difference._

It was as good as place as any to start. Most of the time he accepted Iraq- there were times when it was more difficult than others, the days when his feet or back ached so badly that walking normally was an effort, the nights when the dreams took him back. Accepting his childhood was a little tougher right now. In the wake of Jared's death he'd had more of the 'if onlys' pop into his head. If only his dad had figured out how to cope without drinking or if only he had't been violent when he drank. If only his mom hadn't left or if only she'd taken them with her. Would Jared still be alive? He knew serenity would remain elusive as long as he kept allowing his thoughts down that path. He tried to shift gears. He couldn't change what happened or who knew it now, he could only work on his reaction.

He looked up to see his wife coming towards him juggling two mugs, the baby monitor and a blanket. She set the cups down, motioned for him to scoot over so she could snuggle in on his good side and covered them both. She them handed him one of the mugs. He frowned at his, then looked into hers and made a face. She recognized the look and said sternly "Hot chocolate and coffee have caffeine in them, which you don't need. So, warm milk or chamomile tea are your only options. You really should be in bed you know?"

He gave a small smile, "Thanks Bones. And I'm sorry for dragging you out here. Just wasn't ready for sleeping yet."

"I know. Are you okay?"

He squeezed her hand. "I'm trying to be."

"How can I help?"

He shrugged. "Not sure yet. Still trying to process. "

She sipped her tea and waited, head resting in the crook of his shoulder and rubbing her free hand gently on his thigh trying to let him know that when he was ready she was there to listen.

Several minutes passed. Finally she felt more than heard him give a short laugh. That was not a reaction she was expecting. She raised her head to look at him.

"What?"

"Just thinking. Jared is probably laughing his ass off."

She frowned, "I fail to see any humor in the events of the day."

"Well, you know I don't like to talk about what my father did to us?" She nodded, so he continued "It didn't bother Jared to talk about it. Matter of fact he's the one that told Rebecca and Cam. " He shook his head remembering, " Rebecca and I got in a huge fight over it. She was pregnant, we were having problems anyway and the fact that I hadn't told her was one more strike against me in her book. She said that omission was the same as lying. When I got pissed at Jared he just shrugged it off, saying how the hell was he supposed to know I'd never said anything."

"And Cam?"

"She was more angry for me than at me. "

Brennan recalled that she had felt the same way when Sweets had revealed what Jared had told him. But she had never fully appreciated the differences in how the brothers had reacted to the same events. She mused out loud, "Interesting that he never had the same sense of privacy that you did. I wonder why?"

He shrugged. Then caught himself. He knew. Or at least he had a good idea. But he wasn't sure he wanted to talk about it. Even to her. Step 10 of the program popped into his head, "Continue to watch for selfishness, dishonesty, resentment, and fear. When these crop up, we ask God at once to remove them. We discuss them with someone immediately..."

Feeling his muscles tense she removed her hand from his leg to intertwine her fingers with his at her shoulder, silently urging him to continue. He took a sip of his milk, made a face, and then sighed. He was tired. Not just physically. He was tired of carrying this burden that up till today he hadn't even realized was weighing on him. Swallowing hard he pulled her closer, resting his cheek against the top of her head. He spoke so softly that she had to strain to hear. "Dad always made it clear that what happened in the house was family business, no one needed to know but us. A few months after Mom left, Jared got it into his head that it was a sin to lie. He was only six you know? A friend of mine at school asked me how I got the bruises on my arm. I said I fell off my bike, and Jared told them that wasn't right, dad pushed me. The friend told his mom who told her husband who was a customer of dad's. The next time he got his hair cut he mentioned the conflicting stories to dad. " He gave a bitter laugh, "Dad turned on the famous Booth charm and convinced the guy that he was mistaken. " He paused, "when he came home that night he made sure that the bruises couldn't be seen."

Brennan willed her voice to remain steady, trying to remain calm for his sake, "and you told your dad that it was your fault?"

"I didn't have to. It was my friend's dad. He never even asked the question."

"And it never occurred to you to tell him?"

She felt him shake his head. "Jared never said anything to anyone again until after we went to live with Pops." He took a deep breath, "but even after we were safe, it wasn't something I told. If somebody asked, I wouldn't lie, but I never volunteered the information. Jared did that."

Processing the information, a thought struck her. "Booth, did Jared tell Parker?"

"No." The answer came swiftly. "Even he knew that was not a line to cross. " He thought about it some more, "Parker knows that something was off with my father, but I haven't said anything. " He swallowed hard, "When he was little I..I..I never wanted to put the idea in his head that you could be afraid of your daddy. "

"And now?"

"I know that he's old enough understand, but " he shrugged, "it seems like that should be a face to face talk, and given the limited time we have together I don't want to ruin anything."

She squeezed his hand, "Anthropologically speaking, the sharing of secrets is a bonding ritual. "

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I'll remember that Bones. Maybe when he comes at Thanksgiving."

She turned to face him, "only if you want to Booth."

He nodded. They sat in silence for a while. She wasn't sure whether he wanted to talk about the torture or if he'd had enough. Decided the only way to find out was to ask.

"What about your POW time? Did Jared tell people about that too?"

He shook his head. "He didn't have to. The scars have faded some but, you've seen my feet, anyone who sees me without socks can figure out something happened."

"They know that you were injured. Do they know how?"

He exhaled. "Rebecca, Cam, you, Aldo, Hank Latrell know the whole story. Some of my other buddies have put and two together. But there's an unwritten rule in the army that you don't ask about a guys scars. Hannah would have known what they meant but we never talked about it. "

"Parker?"

"He knows I got hurt, but not how. " He allowed a small smile, "when he was about 4 he asked why I had lines all over my feet and he didn't."

"Max knows about both, " she said suddenly. "I don't know how. " She looked at him with concern, "I never told him. I swear. "

He chuckled, "Relax Bones. Max's contacts rival the CIA's." He shook his head ruefully, "If only he'd used his powers for good. "

She smiled and relaxed a bit. At least he was cracking jokes. "I'm sorry Booth."

"It's not your fault Bones."

"No, all those years ago, when I read your x-rays without your permission. I just now realized how intrusive that was. I had no right, not then. "

He put his mug down and hugged her tighter, ignoring the twinge from his wound. "I'm glad you did Bones."

She looked at him skeptically.

"Ok, I was annoyed at first, but then I realized that you did it out of concern not nosiness. And what was it you said? Sharing of secrets is a way of bonding?"

She nodded.

"After that, I knew you knew me. I didn't have to hold anything back."

She thought back, "And I knew that I was wrong about you."

"Bones? You're admitting you were wrong? How?"

She smacked him gently "I have admitted I'm wrong before Booth. " She snuggled back against him "You hadn't lived the charmed life that I thought you had. I postulated that someday, if I chose to tell you about my time in the foster care system you might be understanding."

"So, I guess anthropology got it right."

He allowed that thought to rattle around as he contemplated who he had inadvertently bonded with today. Angela and Hodgins, Wendall and Daisy they were family. Clark was too, in a distant cousin sort of way. He supposed that he should have told them rather than let them find out this way. He sighed. Angela was probably pissed. He'd have to explain it wasn't her, it was him. In any case, Booth trusted all of them completely. Fisher too he supposed. He had saved his life after all. Jessica wasn't family yet, but he could see that happening, particularly if the signals he was picking up from Aubrey were correct. Crap, he probably needed to have a talk with the junior agent to avoid having Jessica in an awkward place. Rudolfo, well, there was the small obstacle of him wanting to sleep with Bones, but he supposed he should give him the benefit of the doubt for honesty. Oliver, not so much, but quite frankly he didn't really care what Oliver thought of him and he was pretty sure the feeling was mutual.

 _God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,_  
 _Courage to change the things I can,_  
 _And wisdom to know the difference._

He took a deep breath. If he could change what happened today, he wasn't sure he'd do it. He knew he still wasn't likely to be very open about his past, he wasn't THAT courageous. But, he realized, he really was okay with his extended family knowing.

He kissed his wife again. "I love you Bones. Let's go inside."


	6. The Exile

Two days after the Show and Tell Booth was waiting for Bones in the lounge of the Jeffersonian. Rudolfo Fuentes was walking past when he spotted the agent. He quickly changed course and extended his hand in greeting, balancing a stack of papers under his arm. "Agent Booth. It is good to see you again. You are looking well, I take it your recovery is coming along nicely?"

"Hey Rudolfo. Yea. Just came from the doctors. Doing fine. Still have a few restrictions - no heavy lifting or really strenuous exercise for a couple more weeks." He was relieved that the doctors visit hadn't had revealed any complications. Yesterday he'd been exhausted despite doing nothing more taxing than hanging the painting from Angela. "How are you?"

"Other than drowning in paperwork, I am well."

Booth nodded to the papers "Case files? "

"Some of it. But mostly these are the necessary updates to my green card so that I may eventually apply for naturalization. Capitalism, communism it doesn't matter, bureaucracy is the heart of all governments it seems."

"Isn't that the truth? Bones is down in personnel filling out the papers to be re-instated here. I didn't realize you were going to give up your Cuban citizenship."

"Yes. It was not a decision I made easily. I love this country, but Cuba was my home. If things were different there it would have not been my choice to leave. With President Obama lifting the embargo things may improve there. However, change is slow and I do not believe I will be able to return anytime soon. I am grateful for the opportunities afforded to me here so I look forward to becoming a citizen someday."

Booth thought about it and realized he couldn't imagine having to renounce his country. "It must be hard to know that you can't ever go home again."

Rudolfo sighed "It is. I love Cuba. However, its government and my family have a love hate relationship."

"What happened? " He held up his hands. "I'm sorry, it's none of my business."

"I will give you the shortened version. My grandfather was connected in the government. As a result, our family had many privileges. However, he was a better official than a father, so both my father and his brother engaged in rebellions against Castro. Those transgressions were mostly overlooked thanks to my grandfather's position. It was only after he died that his sons realized the extent of his protection. My family lost their home, and my uncle was imprisoned for six months. Cuban prisons are not know for their rehabilitation programs. He was tortured." He paused and added softly, "Physically, not to the extent you were, but psychologically I do not suppose that really matters."

Booth felt himself tensing up. He had to make a conscious effort to keep his hands from curling into fists. As he started to respond Rudolfo held up his hand and spoke. "Forgive me Agent Booth. Dr. Saroyan warned us that you would not welcome a conversation on your past injuries and I do not wish to make you uncomfortable. However, with your permission I would like to make an observation?" Booth gave a terse nod so the intern continued. "I have been thinking a lot over the past two days. If my uncle had your strength and resilience things might have been different for my family. Unlike yourself he never rebuilt his life after prison, choosing instead to try to drown his sorrows."

Booth stared at him, unsure what to say. He swallowed hard. "I'm sorry about your uncle. It's hard to adjust to life after...after. I had Bones and Christine and Parker to help."

Rudolfo shook his head. "Do not underestimate yourself Agent Booth. My uncle had a family as well. He chose to dwell on what had happened to him rather than focus on his future. He died of alcoholism three years ago. Unfortunately, my cousin is beginning to show signs of following in his fathers footsteps. The fact that you did not recognize that you had options did not mean that they were not there. "

Booth nodded, still not sure how to respond. Finally Rudolfo extended his hand. "I must be going now. It was good to see you again Agent Booth." Booth grasped it firmly. "Thank you." Rudolfo nodded and left.

Booth sat back on the couch and exhaled. It had been a hell of a couple of days.

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Thank you for the reviews. I am not always good at responding to them, but they are appreciated.


	7. The Old Friend

From across the lab, Cam watched Booth sink back into the couch after Rudolfo left. Their voices hadn't carried, but watching her old friends body language, she could guess the topic of conversation. However, the conclusion of the discussion had obviously stunned the agent. He sat staring into space, hands mindlessly fidgeting with his ever present poker chip. She started to cross to the lounge area, studying her friend the entire time, preparing to reverse course if there was any indication that he wanted solitude. He was going through a lot right now both physically and mentally and she was determined to walk the tightrope between letting him know he wasn't alone and giving him the space he needed.

So lost in thought was he that he hadn't heard her approach. Trying not to startle him, she cleared her throat softly. When he looked up she said gently, "Hey. Want some company? And it's really okay if you say no. I won't take it personally."

He gave her a wry grin and patted the couch next to him. "Not sure how good the company will be, but have a seat."

She sat on the edge so that she could face him. "So on a scale of 1 to furious where are you?"

He shook his head and smiled. "Wasn't expecting that level of bluntness, Cam."

"Well, I figured might as well know where I stand, being the messenger and all. "

He looked at her, noting the concern in her expression, "I'm fine." At her eye roll he added, "Honestly, I'm only about a two."

She studied him closely and was surprised to find she believed him. "Good. "

"You don't need to sound so shocked."

She opened her mouth to defend herself and then realized he was teasing her. Glad to see the spark in his eyes, she put on her best pout and replied, "Geez, you think after 20 years you know someone..."

He started to laugh but then winced. "Damn."

She touched his forearm lightly, "Are you okay?"

"Yea, the doc was just poking around there earlier. It's a little tender. "

He took a couple of steadying breaths and then looked at her. "How about you? How are you holding up?"

She shrugged, "Hanging in there. Just sad you know? I'm having a hard time believing that Jared's gone. And I miss Arastoo. But I'll be okay eventually."

He nodded. "I'm really sorry things didn't work out Cam. "

"Yea, me too." She tried to smile a little bit, "Sometimes I think it would be easier if we had a huge fight. If we didn't still love each other. " She sighed, "He called the other night, after I got back from your place. Clark had texted what happened. He knew we'd both be upset and wanted to know if there was anything he could do. We talked for about an hour, and he probably saved me from a bitch of a hangover yesterday."

He looked alarmed at that news, "Cam, you didn't think I was mad at you did you?"

"Relax Big Man. You were fine. Handled the news a lot better than I was expecting. I was just mad at the world on your behalf, and figured since you can't drink yet, I'd be a good friend and do it for you. He helped me look at the whole mess from a different perspective."

"I'm glad he could help. " He looked thoughtful, "Sooooooooooo, if you don't mind my asking, what was his perspective?"

She reached out to take his hand and locked eyes with him. "He said that since the family you were born into is now gone, this was God's way of strengthening the family you created. " She squeezed his hand gently. "No one who knows what you've been through will take your presence in their life for granted. "

He blinked and then dropped his gaze to their hands. The first instinct was to argue that his mom was still alive, but he realized that Arastoo was right. While he would always love her and she would love him as much as she was capable, the reality was she was not his family in any sense but biological. He sighed and muttered, "bonding through the sharing of secrets."

"Excuse me?"

"That's the anthropological view. "

"Ah." She shook her head, "Damn anthropologists. I hate it when they're right."

He snorted. "Yep. " He paused. "Geez, the last day or so the best advice I've had has come from anthropologists and six year olds. "

"Oh? Do tell. "

He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "Talked with my sponsor yesterday. " At her expression he quickly added, "Don't worry, he called me. "

She let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. While she wouldn't blame him if he needed the extra support she was hoping that he wouldn't need to deal with that demon too. He continued, "I've been too tired to have any gambling urges. But he's been checking in every day since I got out of the hospital, just in case. " She nodded and he continued, "Anyway, we determined that part of the reason I don't talk about my past is because my father insisted on privacy. "

"Ok, that makes sense. But you lost me with the six year olds. "

He grinned, "To paraphrase Christine and Michael Vincent, he's not the boss of me."

She burst out laughing. He clutched his side trying not to join in. She sobered. "Sorry. I am just glad you've figured out a way to make peace with this."

He nodded, "Yea, me too."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Feeling much better than she had since the Show and Tell she couldn't resist tweaking her old friend.

"So Seeley, any other words of wisdom from your kids. Maybe from Hank?"

"Yea. Don't call me Seeley, Camille"


	8. Revelations

After finishing her business at the Jeffersonian, Booth and Brennan headed towards home. The fatigue on Booth's face was evident when they pulled into the driveway. Max greeted them with a finger to his lips having finally convinced Hank that a nap was in order. Brennan suggested, in a tone that indicated that it was not really a suggestion, that her husband do the same. The token protest that he gave indicated that she was right.

Two hours later she gently slid open the door to their bedroom and sat next to him on the bed, careful not to jostle him. As he opened his eyes, he looked at her drowsily, "Hey".

She ran her fingers through his hair, "Hey. How are you feeling?"

"Better" He captured her hand in his and grinned, "You can stop trying to take my temperature. I'm fine. "

She blushed, knowing she was busted. But rather than confess, she dropped a kiss on his forehead hoping to distract him.

He looked at the clock on the nightstand. "Damn. Sorry for sleeping so long." He frowned, "The house is way too quiet, where are the kids?"

"Hank woke up around the time school let out, so Max took him to pick up Christine and they were going to the park until dinner. We thought you could use the rest. "

He sighed, frustrated. "I shouldn't be this tired. "

"Booth, it's been scientifically proven that emotional stress can change the effect of cortisol in your system allowing for excessive production of pro-inflammatory cytokines which can impair healing."

He smiled, "Bones, I love it when you speak squint to me. "

"Caroline and Aubrey are coming over in a bit. They have the statements for you to sign. " She paused and added softly, "Caroline doesn't think anything will go to trial. Kevin's crew are all turning on each other, and Dr. Metzger's lawyer is trying to negotiate a plea to make sure he serves his time in a federal rather than a state penitentiary. "

He exhaled. "I guess that's best. Get it over with quickly and move on. " And this way I don't have to testify about what a dumbass my brother was he thought darkly.

Brennan watched the shadows cross his features and noted that he was swallowing repeatedly, trying to maintain his composure. She squeezed his hand, and waited for him to look back at her. "Max made lasagna. If you're up to it, everyone will stay for dinner, although they promised not too long. "

"Yea, that'll be fine. When are they coming over?"

"About 15 minutes, Max is going to keep the kids out for another 45, give you time to get everything taken care of. "

"Guess I should get up then. "

She nodded and stood, offering her hand to help pull him to a sitting position. Cutting off his protest at the assistance by putting a finger to his lips. "Your exterior oblique has been highly compromised and your anterior longitudinal and inter-transverse ligaments cannot compensate. "

"To quote someone I know, I don't know what that means. "

She leaned down to whisper in his ear, "It means you should shut up and let me help you Booth. "

He got up, splashed some water on his face and mentally prepared himself for the meeting. He was pacing around the living room when the doorbell rang. Caroline and Aubrey were ushered in. Neither had seen Booth since his release from the hospital a week earlier and so there was a little catching up to do. After procuring beers for the arrivals, Brennan suggested, "Why don't you head down to the man cave to do the paperwork? That way you won't be interrupted if the kids come back early. "

"That makes sense Cheri, this isn't any business for young ears to hear. "

Booth nodded and started to head down the hall, before the trio left the kitchen Brennan grabbed Booth's hand. "If you need me let me know."

"Thanks Bones. "

Booth settled in the stadium chairs and pulled a tv tray over to put the paperwork on. Aubrey perched in the guest recliner, Caroline opted for wandering about the room declaring that getting out of the recliner would cost her too much of her dignity. The statement was quickly reviewed and signed. Booth didn't read it too closely, knowing that Aubrey and Caroline would not have edited his interview in any way that would reflect negatively. He knew that if any editing had been done it would have been to make things less incriminating for Jared. Not that it really mattered.

He put down the pen. "I think that's it. "

Caroline nodded sympathetically, "Are you okay, Cher?" He nodded. She narrowed her gaze on him, knowing that this was difficult for him. No matter how noble Jared's intentions were at the end, in the beginning, he had signed on for robbing a drug dealer. That was weighing on her friend. But, it was clear he didn't want to discuss it further, so she changed the topic. "Okay. Booth, would you care to explain this artwork? "

Booth shifted uncomfortably. While he was trying not to let the whole revelation of his x-rays get to him, bottom line it was hard to change 40 years of behavior patterns in 48 hours. He didn't want to explain it. And with Caroline's nose for the truth, once they got on the topic there would be no escaping.

Aubrey looked at the painting, "That's pretty cool. New isn't it?" He'd watched the kids one night while Brennan was visiting Booth in the hospital. It hadn't been there a week ago.

"Yea. Angela painted it for me."

Caroline kept studying Booth, "I can see that. The question is why?"

He fidgeted, hoping she would get the hint.

"Ok, I'll let you off the hook. Instead maybe you can help me get Aubrey to tell what the burr is in his backside. "

"I don't know what you are talking about Ms. Julian, my backside is burrless."

"Nonsense. You've had your britches in a bunch for two days now. " She turned to Booth, "He's been in a mood since Tuesday, left work happy, came back crabbier than a bayou trawler. If I had to hazard a guess I'd say it had something to do with a certain red headed intern. "

"Oh crap. " Booth ran his hand over his face.

"Booth, it's nothing. " He turned to Caroline, "Jessica and I are just friends. We were supposed to meet up after the show and tell meeting and she cancelled on me at the last minute. And it's not that she cancelled, she was just, I don't know, weird about it. And then she kind of avoided me yesterday. Now she's off at a seminar for a couple of days so I can't talk to her much. I'm just a little worried. "

Booth exhaled. "I have a pretty good idea what happened."

Caroline raised her eyebrows, "That's some pretty fancy investigative work for someone who is still officially retired."

"What's going on Booth? " Aubrey asked with some concern. He didn't understand the expression on his friends face but he didn't look happy.

Booth rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the floor. "There was an administrative screw up, the interns analyzed my x-rays on Tuesday. After the mistake was discovered Cam reminded them not to discuss it outside of the lab. " He looked up. "My x-rays are " he sighed, " upsetting. If I had to guess she's trying to figure out what she can and can't say around you. "

"Upsetting how Cherie? The interns can't be surprised that you've had some broken parts. "

He sat silent for a bit. Finally he spoke, "There were a couple of incidents that happened before the FBI. Things that before Tuesday only a few people knew about. "

They both stared at him, but recognized that he was struggling to find the right words, so neither spoke, giving him time. After a minute he said quietly, "During my first tour of duty in Iraq. I was captured. Before my unit could rescue me, the guards broke most of the bones in my feet. "

"Oh Cher. " Caroline put her hand to her chest. "I am so sorry."

"There's more. " Booth said quietly, determined to get it out and be done with it.

"Booth, you don't have to explain" Aubrey began and then halted when Caroline shook her head subtly.

"My dad, um, he was an alcoholic. " He focused on Caroline, she was nodding to him encouragingly, this was not new news to her, but it was the first time he had been so blunt about it. She didn't really want to hear what was coming next, but she knew he finally needed to speak the words out loud. "He was a mean drunk. " He said it and then plead with his eyes that both of them understood what that meant without any additional details.

They did. He dropped his gaze to the floor and began to bounce his leg nervously. Hands fiddling.

Aubrey stared at his mentor. His dad was not anyone's idea of a good parent, but he had never laid a hand on him.

Caroline crossed the room to stand in front him. She reached down to take his hands in hers. He looked up and was stunned to find unshed tears in the prosecutor's eyes. "Caroline..."

She shook her head. "Anything else you need to get off your broad chest Seeley Booth? "

He swallowed hard, "I'm sorry that everybody had to find out this way. "

"Stop!" Caroline said sharply and squeezed his hands. "You don't need to apologize for dealing with your past however you needed to in order to survive. " She took a deep breath and said in a gentler tone, "You earned my love and respect a long time ago, and what you told us today has only deepened it. I am honored to be part of your family. " She sniffed. "The only reason I'm not currently hugging the stuffing out of you is on account of you being injured." They heard the arrival of Max and the kids. "I am going to do the next best thing and go cuddle with your children. "

He cracked a small smile at that "Thanks Caroline."

She left the room, stopping to check out the painting again, muttering, "Superhero Booth, 'bout time the squint squad realized what they had. " Before she went to greet the younger Booths she paused in the hallway to take a few deep breaths and wipe her eyes.

Aubrey cleared his throat. "That couldn't have been easy for you to talk about Booth. I'm sorry. I had no idea."

"It's okay Aubrey. Just do what you need to do to make things right with Jessica. Let her know that I appreciate she was trying to protect my privacy. Will ya? "

"Will do Booth. And for the record, I agree with Caroline 100 percent. " He offered a sheepish grin, "Well, except for the hugging part."

The two men chuckled.

A voice rang out "Daddy! Uncle Aubrey! Dinner's ready!" followed by an exasperated Bones saying "Christine! You could have walked down the hallway. "

Aubrey turned to his mentor, "guess that's our cue. " Booth started to shift in the seat, trying to figure out the least painful way to stand up. Aubrey offered his hand to assist. Booth grabbed it and allowed the junior agent to pull him to his feet.

"Thanks Aubrey."

"Anytime Booth. Anytime"


	9. The Retired Con

The next morning, Booth stirred at the sounds of his wife getting dressed. Before he could fully awaken, she gave him a gentle kiss and whispered, "Go back to sleep. " By the time he could think of an argument to that order she was gone, so, he let himself drift off again. When he woke later he was surprised to see that it was already 9:30 and the house was way too quiet. He got out of bed as fast as his aching body would allow and began his morning stretch routine. Fifteen minutes later he headed into the kitchen for coffee, with the expectation of finding a note from Bones explaining where she'd gone. He was somewhat annoyed to find his father-in-law sitting at the counter reading the paper.

"Hey Booth."

"Hey Max. Where is everybody?" He grabbed a mug and filled it.

"Hank is down for his morning nap, Tempe took Christine to school and then was going to meet with her editor. And then I'm guessing that she'll come up with an excuse to head to the lab. Now that she's made the decision to go back, she's chomping at the bit. So, it's just us guys here for the morning."

Booth sipped his coffee. His first thought was Max didn't need to babysit and then he realized that he did. Hank was way over the limit of what he was allowed to lift. Damn. He really hated this. He sighed.

Max watched his son-in-law. He had a pretty good idea of what was going through the younger man's head. Sometimes it was a toss up as to which one of the couple could be more stubbornly self-reliant. He tried to keep his tone light, "I know this has to frost your cookies Booth, but, really, I'm happy to be able to help. Last time you were hurt no one could do anything for you. We could all rally around Tempe and the kids but we knew you were alone. That was hard on everybody. It's only for a couple more weeks, so suck it up. Okay?"

Feeling somewhat chagrined and not wanting to remember recuperating in jail, Booth nodded. "Sorry. I don't mean to be ungrateful. I really do appreciate all you're doing for us. There's just a lot going on and I'm a little..." He shrugged, "I don't know, off balance. "

"I get it. You've had a really crappy few weeks, I'd be more concerned if you weren't having trouble. " Seeing Booth's attempt at a smile, he decided to press his luck. "Believe me, I know it's disconcerting when your past catches up with you. " At Booth's raised eyebrows he continued, "Tempe told me about the lab screw up. Actually, I kind of badgered it out of her after she said you'd had a rough couple of days. In her defense, since I already knew she rationalized that it was okay to tell me. "

"Yea, Bones told me you knew. How did you find...no never mind I don't want to know. "

"Are you implying I found out illegally? We really do need to work on your trust issues son. "

Booth snorted, "Come on Max. We both know that you can get pretty creative when it comes to the letter of the law, and that you have friends who are equally loose in their views. And most of my service record IS classified. So, either someone told you, which given up till Tuesday there were only a small group of people who knew about both incidents, so I doubt that, or, I make the small leap to something shady. Since I don't want to explain to my daughter why I'm arresting her grandpa, I won't ask. "

"You're not back with the FBI yet Booth. However, for the record, I didn't do anything illegal, nor did I pay anyone to. But, you are probably right in that you don't want to know. "

Booth frowned. That was not what he was expecting. Max wouldn't bother to lie about something like this. His mind puzzled through other options He could only come up with one possibility. "There was somebody else who knew. " At Max's nod, he asked, "Who?"

"Your father."

Definitely not what he was expecting. Ok, obviously his father knew about the childhood scars since he'd given them. But, the POW? He knew Jared never talked to the old man. So that left..."Pops?".

"Yes. When you were reported MIA, Hank called him. Figured another person praying for your return couldn't hurt. When you were found Hank let him know. "

He felt his jaw clench. "When did you track him down?"

"After the Cleo Eller case. I read your names in the paper. Given my past experiences with FBI agents, I thought it prudent to find everything I could on the guy my daughter was working with, so I tracked him down."

He shook his head. "Well, you would have been better off asking my paper boy. "

"Oh I did that too. After. "

Booth held up his hand. "Max, I really don't want to talk about him. "

"I know. Maybe you want to listen though? "

"I saw the man once in my adult life. I looked him up before I shipped out for my first tour. It was less than a 5 minute conversation. What could there possibly be to listen to?"

"He saw you twice. "

That caught Booth's attention. "What?"

"He came to see you at Walter Reed. A couple of days after you were shipped back. He waited in the lobby for three hours till the nurse told him you'd been sedated and would be out of it. He wanted to see you, but didn't want you to know. Didn't want to upset you. "

Booth shook his head in disbelief, "Right, father of the year. "

"No. He knew he wasn't a good father or a good husband. He said that his family deserved a lot better. But he also said seeing you in the hospital, he never prayed harder in his life that you would come through that okay. His greatest fear was that you'd be unable to cope with what happened, stuck in the nightmare. That you'd end up like him."

Ironic, Booth thought, their greatest fear was the same. After all these years to find out he had something in common with his old man. He still didn't want to talk about this. He glared at his father in law, hoping he would get the hint.

Max got it alright, but decided to ignore it at least for a few more minutes. Booth WAS unarmed after all. "I only talked with him the one time. I don't doubt at all that he was a mean bastard when you were a kid. But by the time I met up with him he was just sad. He knew that he'd blown it with his life, didn't have the balls to change anything-tried and failed too many times. Was pretty much just waiting to check out." He watched the muscle in his son in laws jaw clench as he took an inordinate amount of interest in the counter top. "When I explained why I was there, that you were partnered with my daughter, he told me I didn't have anything to worry about. You were a born protector. If you decided that Tempe was your responsibility that you'd do everything in your power to keep her safe. You'd proven it time and time again with Jared. And for all he got wrong, I know that he was dead right on that count. " He sipped his coffee and waited patiently for Booth to look up.

"For what it's worth Booth, he was proud of you. He knew he had no right to be. Everything you accomplished was in spite of him and because of Hank and your own damn stubbornness. " Max laughed, "Mostly your stubbornness I think, although Hank was a hell of a guy. " That got a small grin from Booth. He grew serious, "Don't know if I made you feel better or worse talking about your dad. I hope it was better. "

Booth wasn't sure what he felt. On the one hand it was too little, too late. On the other he could feel a little of the anger slip away, replaced by sadness. Whether that was better or worse, he didn't know yet. And while he still wasn't sure what combination of faith, fate and other factors had worked in his favor to end up where he was instead of drunk and alone like his dad, he sent up a little prayer of thanks.

Through the baby monitor it became apparent that Hank was awake. Max smiled, "That's my cue. " He rose, clapped Booth on the shoulder as he passed. Walking down the hallway he called out, "Hey, if you want to make breakfast I'd help you eat it. Tempe tried to feed me tree bark with soy milk this morning. "

"Bacon and eggs or pancakes Max?"


	10. Conversations

Over the next 10 days Booth found his energy level increasing and his pain decreasing. That was the good news. The flip side of that was that limitations placed on him by his doctor and strictly enforced by his wife began to be a bigger source of irritation. Wary that one bored and frustrated special agent could lead to one exasperated forensic anthropologist and the volitility of that combination, the extended Booth and Brennan family did their best to provide distractions. Booth found himself doing a balancing act between being annoyed at what he privately referred to as being baby sat and being grateful for all the support. As Max had pointed out the last time, actually the last two times he'd been shot he'd been on his own in recovery. All things considered having family around was definitely preferable.

In addition to having distractions, there was the side effect of providing opportunities for ticking off what Booth internally referred to as "the conversations". Despite Cam's warning that he didn't want to discuss his x-rays, the interns seemed to be unable to NOT reference the show and tell the first time they saw him. Knowing that he would have felt the same way had the roles been reversed and that it was concern more than curiousity that drove his friends, he tried his best to remain calm and collected during those encounters.

Daisy was up first. Sunday after church, she had picked up Christine and Hank for a few hours in the park and children's museum, keeping things as normal as possible for the family. While Christine was old enough to understand that Daddy didn't feel well, now that Booth was up and about more she had a tendency to forget and Hank didn't understand at all why he had to wait for Mommy to pick him up. The kids adored each other so it was welcome entertainment. Knowing how hard it was to keep track of three little ones Daisy and Lance were invited to stay for dinner, and she gratefully accepted. Booth had done most of the cooking so Brennan had insisted on doing the clean up and declined Daisy's offer of help. The kids were playing in corner of the family room when Daisy pulled out a few photographs from her purse.

"I was going through some of Lance's things yesterday, and came across these. I thought you might like them, if you don't already have copies."

Booth looked. There was a photo of all of them at one of the Jeffersonian Christmas parties, a selfie with Christine that Sweets must have taken when he stayed with them, a picture of of them shaking hands after Sweets passed his firearms certification and a candid from the wedding that he'd never seen before with the two of them, Christine, Parker and smeared cake. He smiled sadly. Damn, he missed his friend. "Thanks Daisy. "

"You're welcome." She sighed. Keeping her voice low as to not be overheard she added, "I really missed him this week. He would have known how to help. I mean I know I felt awful, and I just assume that it wasn't easy for you to find out either. "

Booth nodded. He'd been wishing he'd had his friend to talk to and been regretting that he'd never really confided in Sweets. Maybe if he'd been a little more open in the past last week wouldn't have come as such a shock to everyone. "I know what you mean. I never talked about any of it with him, even though he wanted me to." He hesitated, "It wasn't that I didn't trust him, I just couldn't. I hope he knew that."

"He did. " She said with such quiet determination that he was shocked and it must have shown. "He never hinted about your past to me if that's what you're thinking, but he of all people knew how hard it was to talk about a bad childhood. " She smiled, remembering, "He also said at one point that he was glad that everyone wasn't like you and Dr. Brennan - psychologists would go out of business. When you were in jail we talked a lot about what he could do to help and how much you'd let him. " She gave a small laugh and patted his leg. "He said he'd just have to out stubborn you if necessary. But he never doubted that you trusted him."

Christine chose that moment to come over and look at the photo and oooh and aaaah over "when she was little."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jessica came next on Wednesday. He and Bones had dropped Hank off at day care for a couple of hours as kind of a trial run for their return to work. She took advantage of the time and headed down to limbo while he walked over to the diner to meet Aubrey for breakfast. Aubrey was there with the intern when he arrived.

"Hey Booth, hope you don't mind if Jessica joins us. Figure that will keep us from talking too much shop. " Director Stark, while anxious for his head of Major Crimes to return had also made it clear to all personnel that case consulting with Booth was strictly forbidden until his medical clearance. He did not want Booth back before he was ready, thinking that part of the reason Booth had retired in the first place was that he'd pushed himself to come back too soon after the release from prison and Sweets' death.

"Not a problem. " And it really wasn't. The three had enjoyed breakfast and were lingering over coffee when Aubrey stepped out to take a call. After a few moments of comfortable silence Jessica broke it with, "Thank you. And I owe you an apology."

Booth was puzzled. He hadn't done anything, and as far as he was concerned, Jessica hadn't either. "Um, okay, for what?"

"For putting you in an awkward place with Aubrey. He explained what happened last week." The two had talked over the weekend in between Star Trek movies. Aubrey had asked a few questions wanting to make sure that Booth's injuries were all in the past. She had confirmed that, but fell short in convincing her friend and herself that the agent was completely unscathed. She knew that much damage must come with a daily reminder. "I should have handled it better, I just didn't think things through. I figured after a couple of days I'd know how to not be weird about it, but I should have known that Aubrey would be concerned that something was wrong. So, thank you for fixing that. And I'm sorry because I feel like I outed you. That was never my intention, but I made a mistake."

"Oh." He took a sip of his coffee as he tried to find the right words. "There's nothing to apologize for Jessica. My past isn't exactly a secret, it's just not something I talk about if that makes sense?"

She nodded and he continued, "After Tuesday, I knew eventually I should tell Aubrey anyway. So, you just gave me the excuse to get it over with. "

She studied him for a moment, wanting to convince herself that he wasn't just saying it to make her feel better. Finally she decided it was the truth. "Well, then thank you again for putting me at ease. And I know it doesn't change anything, but what happened to you was totally fracked."

He chuckled at that and nodded his head in agreement. Aubrey re-appeared and the conversation shifted to more pleasant topics.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Clark and Wendell happened the following Saturday. Coming over to watch college football and help out with Hank while Christine and Bones went to a kids science day at the Museum of Natural History. Unfortunately, Booth was in somewhat of a foul mood - the restrictions chafed, his wound itched, a combo of cold snap and lack of exercise were making his body ache and he hadn't slept well the night before. Hank had just gone down for a nap when they arrived. Right before halftime a wail came from the baby monitor. All three rose, Booth to handle the diaper change even though he couldn't lift the baby out of the crib. Having been sitting for a while he stumbled a bit on stiff muscles and Clark reached over to steady him. He flushed when he limped the first few steps, and his embarrassment multiplied when he saw the looks of concern exchanged between his friends.

In the nursery the two hung back as Booth handled the diaper. Either of them would have managed, having multiple nieces and nephews, but they both sensed that Booth needed to do something on his own. Once Hank was clean and dressed the agent, on autopilot started to pick his son up. Clark sensed it was about to happen and intervened quickly. "Hey Booth, let me handle the heavy lifting. "

Booth glared as Wendell added, "Yea, man. If you pop a stitch on our watch, Dr. B. will never let us come over again." Clark nodded in confirmation and Booth sighed. They were right, if he had a setback because he was pushing too hard Bones would never let him hear the end of it.

Tersely he nodded, "Ok. Hank needs a bottle and I need some snacks."

The trio headed down to the kitchen. Once there, Booth worked on bottle prep, Wendell raided the fridge and Clark amused Hank sitting on the edge of the breakfast bar. When the bottle was ready, he brought it towards his son who lunged in anticipation, Clark lunged to keep the baby on the counter and Booth realized he was too close just a fraction of a second too late and twisted out of the way of Hank's foot and Clark's elbow. Clark managed to catch the bottle as the agent grabbed onto the counter for support with a hiss of pain.

"Are you okay?" "Did he kick you?" Did I hit you?" Clark and Wendell spoke simultaneously as Wendell moved over next to him ready to support if he needed it.

Booth couldn't answer right away through his clenched teeth. Finally he managed, "Just give me a minute. Not a direct hit, it was the twist that got me. " He closed his eyes, hands fisting on the counter and waited for the throbbing to subside. After a couple of minutes it did, and he flattened his palms and cautiously pushed himself to stand up straight. Only then did he open his eyes and see the looks of panic on their faces. "I'm fine. " he tried to reassure them, but his voice was a little shaky.

"Man, I am so sorry. " Clark started to apologize until Booth snapped at him, "It wasn't your fault I got too close, and I'm FINE."

"You sure? You still look a little pale." Wendell asked.

Booth glared, "I'm FINE." he said a little too forcefully.

"Ok, I think we've established that you're fine. " Wendell said but he was unconvinced. " Come on, third quarter should be going by now." He handed Booth a box of crackers and a bag of chips and a bowl of salsa, Clark a couple of bottles of root beer while he grabbed a meat and cheese tray and another soda. The headed back to the man cave.

Once settled, they munched and watched the game, shouting at the TV occasionally, but not trying to make conversation, it was clear that Booth was frustrated and neither man wanted to irritate him further. At the end of the quarter Clark was holding Hank, trying to keep him happy enough that he wouldn't want to go see Daddy, and Wendell had enough of the silence.

"You do know, Booth, that you really suck at this don't you? I mean, I'm not surprised that you do, but I'm a little stunned at how much. "

"I suck at what?" Booth had been lost in thought, embarrassed that that they'd seen him so weak. Deep down he knew that it didn't matter to them and eventually everything he would heal and he'd be back to normal . But still, that didn't mean he couldn't be annoyed. However, he also knew that there was no reason to take his foul mood out on them, so he'd be trying to give himself an attitude adjustment.

"At being a patient. Not being able to do everything yourself. "

Booth looked ready to bite his head off and then caught himself. He gave a short laugh then nodded in agreement. "Yea, I guess I really do. Sorry about that."

"It's ok. I get it. Just do us a favor and let us help ok? I mean we already know you're a bad ass. It's okay to be human."

Clark nodded in agreement. "I'm pretty sure that if I was shot three weeks ago I'd still be curled up in a fetal position. Actually I'd likely be dead because I don't have the guts to pour silver nitrate in my gut."

Booth shook his head at that. "Nah. You'd do what you'd need to do."

"Is that really how feel? That you just did what you had to do?" Wendell asked incredulously.

"Um. Yea. " he shrugged, "That and I was lucky that help arrived when it did. Because I'm not sure how much further I could have walked."

Wendell shook his head in disbelief. "Right, just luck. And Iraq? Was that just luck too?"

Booth shifted uncomfortably, "Just held on till help came." He didn't want to think about how close he'd come to giving up over there.

"For pete's sake Booth, you're pretty much a superhero. You even have the comic book cover to prove it." Wendell gestured to Angela's painting.

Booth snorted, "Yea right, half an hour ago a four month old kicked my ass."

Clark just smiled, "Even Superman had kryptonite man."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
The following Monday was Fisher's turn. They had been out running errands when they stopped by the lab. Clark had asked for a quick consultation. Booth was hanging out in the lounge area reading a magazine when Fisher was passing through and came over. At first Fisher just made small talk, so Booth thought he was going to escape without an uncomfortable discussion. His luck ran out when the intern asked, "Agent Booth, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

Booth groaned internally, and answered "You can ask, I might not answer though. "

"Fair enough. As you know I'm in therapy. " Booth nodded with a half smile, in other news, water was wet. Fisher continued, "Lately my therapist and I have been discussing the evil people do in the world and ways to formulate a healthy psychological response. Given your experiences with war and your job, you've certainly seen the worst people can do, yet you seem reasonably well adjusted, I'm wondering how you've managed?"

Booth gave a half shake of his head, wondering if he should be offended at the reasonably well adjusted observation, and if he really wanted to get into a mental health discussion with Fisher. Then he looked at the intern and saw that he was genuinely interested in his answer. He took a deep breath and thought about it. "I don't know Fisher, I guess that every time something really awful happened, there would be something else that restored my faith in humanity, that gave me hope. "

"Can you give me an example? "

Booth hesitated, trying to find something that he was willing to share. The big moments were way too personal. When he thought he couldn't handle his father any more and was seriously starting to contemplate suicide, Hank had taken him in. Or how when he started to pray for death in Iraq, the Rangers had arrived. Finally he spoke softly, "When I woke up in the military hospital after being rescued in Iraq I was pretty messed up. There were a lot of people, total strangers really, who went out of their way to help me. Not because it was their job, but because they cared about a scared, hurt kid." The first few weeks he was pretty much helpless - his legs immobilized, his right arm in a cast, and too weak and sore to do much with his left, not to mention the IV lines attached there. There had been a steady stream of volunteers who sat with him. Sometimes reading, sometimes talking and sometimes just sitting making sure he was knew he wasn't alone. Specifically he remembered when he became coherent enough to understand that out of the three guys in his unit who'd been captured he was the only one who had survived, a grandmotherly woman had gently washed the tears from his still bruised and battered face and then held his hand until he fell asleep. He wasn't sure he'd ever even been told her name, and if so the drugs had erased it, but he would never forget the kindness.

"And how do you keep it in the face of what you see every day at work?"

"Same way. Seems like when I get too depressed, thinking that we're not making a dent, I get reminded that we made a difference. Someone we helped will reach out. You've heard the updates. " Whenever he or Bones heard from someone they would pass it along to the rest of the team, knowing while they may have been the faces that would be victims or their families saw, the entire team was responsible for their success. They got regular Christmas cards from Donovan Decker, Amy Winslow and others. Hell, Helen Majors and her husband were expecting was a baby boy in a couple of months and his name would be Joseph Brennan. Booth had been honored but horrified that they were originally going to name the kid Seeley and had offered up his middle name instead.

"And that's enough?"

"It has been so far. "

"Hmmm" He looked a little unsatisfied.

"Sorry to disappoint. But it works for me. "

"It's okay Agent Booth, I'm used to disappointment. Thank you anyway."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Thankfully, at least as far as Booth was concerned, he avoided a conversation with Oliver. Bones handled that one. She was leaving the lab when the interns were gathering for the next Show and Tell. She overheard Oliver telling Wendell as they walked towards the conference room, "I don't care what Arastoo told you, I think you and Clark got it wrong. Those weren't Agent Booth's records. There's a very low probability given those x-rays that the guy walks normally let alone has the ability to pass an FBI field agent physical fitness test. "

Aware that Oliver thought himself superior to most everyone in the lab, and definitely looked down upon Booth and Aubrey for not possessing advanced degrees, Brennan saw the opportunity to take him down a dowel or two. "Mr. Wells" she called sharply.

"Yes, Dr. Brennan?"

"You claim to possess a photographic memory correct?"

"It's not a claim, it's a fact. "

"For the left foot were there two pins connecting the medial cuneiform with the navicular?"

"Yes."

"And was there prominent calcification in between the third distal and middle phalange on the right foot?"

"Yes."

"How many fractures were observed on the posterior surface on the intermediate cuneiform?"

"Two on the left foot, none on the right."

"That is correct for the left, but the right also has one although it is very minor and easy for an unskilled eye to miss."

"Hey..."

She didn't want to hear his explanation, firing the next question rapidly, "And were there two fractures on the second metatarsal?"

"Yes. On each foot."

"Describe the left calcaneous."

"Multiple stress fractures plus one fracture running the width of the bone from the interior to exterior surface."

"And the indications for remodeling?"

"At least 20 years old."

"These describe some of Agent Booths injuries exactly. Now would you say the probability of another person having the same fracture pattern as my husband to be higher or lower than the probability that someone with those injuries be able to walk normally?"

Oliver hesitated. Wendell watched with amusement as the annoying intern had been thoroughly Brennanized.

"I'm waiting for an answer Mr. Wells."

"Um, lower."

"Very well then. Now you also claim to be a polymath, is that correct?"

"Again, a fact."

"Then I suggest you learn from this experience. Don't ever underestimate Booth again. "

And with that she turned and walked away, leaving Oliver Wells stammering in her wake.

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A/N: Thanks for all the follows and reviews. Sorry it's been a while since the last update. One more chapter to go, and it's mostly written.


	11. Consequences

Three days later Booth strode into the restaurant looking for his friend Hank Latrell. He was running a little late so he was sure that Hank would already be there. He was right, his old army buddy was waiting patiently at a table in the back.

"Hey Hank! Sorry I'm late. Doc was running a little behind. "

"No problem, Booth. I didn't beat you by much. Everything go okay?"

He couldn't contain his grin, "Yea! The last of the restrictions are gone, I can start getting ready to take the FBI fitness test for re-instatement and I can finally pick up Hank again. " And make love to my wife tonight he mentally added.

"That's great! How is my namesake? And his siblings?"

"Everybody is good. Parker will be here in a couple of weeks for Thanksgiving. How's things with your family?"

"Well other than Joanna thinking we're the worst parents ever because we wouldn't let her stay out all night after homecoming, we're good. " He shook his head, "Enjoy your little girl now Booth. Because once she becomes a teenager, all bets are off."

The waitress came by, both placed their orders for steaks and then nodded knowingly, "Your wife doesn't let you have them either?" They laughed and then spent the time till their food came catching up with each other and on news from other guys in their unit. When their meals arrived they dug in.

After his hunger had been sated with a few bites, Booth asked his friend, "So, what's got you in such a good mood?"

"Had a board of directors meeting this morning. " Hank was on the board of a charity which worked with the VA Adaptive Sports program to help veterans purchase running blades, hand cycles and other specialized sports gear for amputees and paraplegics.

"Damn, think there must be something wrong with my hearing. I thought you just said you're in a good mood because of a board meeting?"

"Very funny, smart ass. It seems like we got ourselves a fairy godparent."

"What do you mean?"

"An anonymous donor took care of our entire wish list. We got everything - the sleds for the hockey team, the skis, the sports chairs, everything!"

"Wow! That's great. " Booth was excited for his friend and for all the vets the equipment would help. Adaptive sports equipment was expensive and many just starting their recovery process had only their government disability check as income.

"And that's not the best part. We also got a trust set up to keep us at base funding for the next 10 years."

"Really? So no more rubber chicken dinners? "

"Really, " Hank said with satisfaction, "We'll still have to so some fund raising particularly if we keep expanding, but we can cut way back on it. Focus on getting the word out to vets and matching equipment to people instead."

"Hank, that's just fantastic. "

"Yea, we were all stunned this morning. Turns out the money actually came in a couple of weeks ago, but it was just under such weird circumstances that the finance guys had to research it before they would believe it was legit. "

"Weird how?"

"Well, the wish lists were all taken care of via the websites. All had the same account info, all anonymous, all just said in honor of a friend. The trust was set up the same way. When they ran the account, it was set up through so many shell corporations and what not they couldn't trace it. But since they couldn't find anything illegal with any of it, they finally decided it was all okay. "

Booth frowned. This sounded familiar. Caroline's teaching program, Wendell's clinical trial, Jeffrey Hodgins long term care facility. All had anonymous windfalls in the last four months. Seemed like his circle had their own personal genie. It had all come in after the Pelant wannabe case where the motive was the Cantilever money. The perp never found the treasure though it was rumored to be out there. He asked slowly, "When exactly did the funding come in?"

"Two weeks ago last Tuesday, right before midnight, why? " He looked at his old buddy, "Booth, do you know something? Temperance didn't do this did she?" Hank had figured out the pair often donated substantial sums anonymously but he hadn't suspected them in this case.

That was the night of the Show and Tell. "No Hank. Bones is rich, but not that rich. I mean you're talking several million dollars here right? Besides, that was kind of memorable night and I can vouch that she wasn't near a computer. Plus, shell corporations aren't really her thing. "

"Yea. I thought that was a little much. But are you sure you don't know anything?"

Well, he had suspicions but nothing else, "Nope. I got nothin' Hank. "

They finished off their lunch and parted ways, making plans for a Sunday dinner next month.

Booth walked the short distance to the Jeffersonian. Bones had dropped him off at the restaurant and then headed in to start moving back into her office. He used the walk to think. He kept going back to the timing of Hank's windfall. It could just be a coincidence, but his gut was telling him otherwise.

Walking into the lab, he headed towards Hodgins office first, where he could see the bug man talking to Wendell. He stood in the door way for a moment to make sure that there was nothing too creepy, slimy or about to explode in the room before rapping on the frame. "Booth! Good to see you man!"

"So, Dr. B. said you are good to go? " Wendell asked.

"Yep. Just supposed to start slow with weights and back off if anything hurts too bad."

"Good. So what are you doing next Friday night at 10? Or is that past your bedtime?"

Hodgins interjected, "Hey, respect your elders there Wendell. "

"Very funny guys. No, that's not past my bedtime, and I don't have anything going, why?"

"You feel like getting some ice time in?"

"Is this about playing in the no check league? I told you Wendell, I don't think I can do it. I was an enforcer, I don't know how to play hockey without contact. "

"Nope. My doctor nixed that too, says he's seen too many broken bones even in no contact leagues. But, you know the support group I'm going to work with?" Booth nodded and Wendell continued, "I've met the with the facilitator a couple of times, and we've hit it off. His brother runs Beltway Ice. Second and fourth Fridays of the month he does kind of a private open skate for the various groups at the hospital. I've been invited and he said I could bring a guest. "

Booth had only skated a couple of times with Christine in the last year. After he was released from prison he hadn't rejoined his hockey team. At first he had been too injured and after he healed he had decided against it. Somehow being in a small enclosed space with a target on his back had lost its appeal, and if he was honest, he didn't really trust his reaction to the inevitable dirty hit. He hadn't missed the hockey so much, or more accurately, he hadn't missed the post hockey aches and pains, but he did miss skating on a regular basis. "Wow, that would be great. Yea, I'm in."

"Cool, see you Friday. Gotta get back to work. "

Hodgins was a little bit surprised when Booth didn't follow the intern out of his office. Instead he leaned against one of the tables, with his arms crossed, apparently making himself comfortable. Starting to get a little nervous at the way the agent was looking at him he asked, "Need something Booth?"

"Nah." Booth kept his tone deliberately casual, "Just had a really good lunch with my army buddy Hank? You remember him right? Judge in the wheelchair? You met him at the wedding."

Hodgins nodded. Trying to keep his expression neutral. "Yea, I remember him. "

"Well, the charity he's on the board of just got a windfall to the tune of several million dollars. Sports equipment and training time for wounded vets for the near future. All of it done anonymously. Through some complicated, untraceable electronic transactions. Only other info was that the donations were on behalf of a friend. " Booth studied the bug and slime guy carefully.

Hodgins tried his best not to squirm. But he now had an idea what it would be like to be on the opposite side of the interrogation table from the G-man. Almost made him feel sorry for the criminals. Keeping his voice steady, "Wow. The guy, or gal, the donation was for must be a pretty good friend."

The agent continued his scrutiny, noting the slight strain in Hodgins voice, the way the 'or gal' qualifier was tacked on quickly, the effort the scientist was making to maintain a neutral expression and the sudden interest the bug man had in the mass spec even though it was clear the machine wasn't running. Booth waited until Hodgins finally made eye contact again. Struggling to keep the astonishment out of his voice, he shook his head and said, "Nope. Whoever made the donation is a really good friend. " They stared for a moment and finally Booth stood. "Hey, gotta go before Bones wonders what I'm up to. " He extend his hand.

The entomologist looked at it suspiciously, Booth had an odd look in his eye and they weren't normally this formal on goodbyes. With some trepidation he reached out to clasp Booth's hand. He was shocked when the agent squeezed tightly and pulled him close in a one armed hug. Clapping him on the back he said hoarsely, "Thanks Jack." With that the agent turned to leave, nearly busting out laughing at Hodgins stunned expression. At the doorway he almost collided with an equally stunned federal coroner and forensic artist. He raised a hand in greeting but kept on moving, "Hey ladies."

Regaining their power of speech at the same time, Angela to her husband, Cam to her old friend. "Sweetie, did Booth just hug you?" "Seeley did you just hug Hodgins?"

The two men answered simultaneously, Booth over his shoulder, "Yep!" Hodgins shakily, "Yea."

The agent kept on walking leaving the women to turn to Hodgins and demand, "What the hell is going on?"

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And on that note, I think this story is done. Of course, I thought it was a one shot, then it was done after chapter two. Then I thought I had maybe three more chapters. And after those three were done I thought maybe three more. So, who knows? For now I'm marking it complete, but I think there may be a stand alone kind of follow up coming soon. Thanks for hanging with me on the spectacularly irregular updates and all the reviews, pms, favorites and follows along the way.


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